


Here We Go 'Round Again

by Bethynyc



Category: Much Ado About Nothing (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 09:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethynyc/pseuds/Bethynyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How they met, and what happened. It was the 80s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We Go 'Round Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bessemerprocess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessemerprocess/gifts).



> Many thanks to my beta, coralysendria, who is wonderful!
> 
> bessemerprocess, I hope you enjoy this! I had lots of fun writing it!
> 
> Title from 'Do It Again' by The Kinks

Marlowe University, Fall Semester, late 1980s

 

Don Pedro arrived on campus as a ready-made bon vivant and generous host. A legacy to the most popular fraternity, his wealth and charm made him a big man on campus even as a freshman. His parties were legendary, especially when his Halloween and pre-Spring Break events proved more popular than those officially sanctioned by the university. By the time he was a junior, Don Pedro was clearly the social leader of the school.

Leonato, on the other hand, was just another harried TA proctoring tests and tutoring for extra cash. His academic gifts had led him to graduate school, where the only notice he attracted was from his professors and the other graduate level members of the Political Science department. He rarely socialized, and, to put it bluntly, was kind of a nerd.

Our story begins, gentle reader, in the fall of Don Pedro’s senior year, when he finally learns that charm and wealth doesn’t solve every problem.

~*~*~*~

Don Pedro stared at the midterm exam, covered in red notes with an “F—See me” circled at the top. He’d never gotten below a B-minus in his entire time at Marlowe University, not even in the Accounting classes that his father insisted he take. Granted, he’d had to actually study, but he’d _studied_ for the Politics of Urban Development midterm, truly he had. But there was that F, glowering at him like his father did when he was particularly annoyed. 

Professor Hermia’s office hours weren’t until the next day, so Pedro sulked through his lunch, his history class, his business administration class, his intermural soccer game, dinner, and the fraternity meeting where he was Social Director, leaving the bulk of running the meeting to the Vice President and Pledge Master. 

He didn’t even hang out after to taste test the five different brands of whiskey he had ordered specifically for that meeting. Instead, he returned to his off-campus apartment (subsidized by his father, but still, his own space with no roommates to chase off when he had a date) and sulked some more, the fiery red notations on his midterm burning into his brain.

_…lack of focus…_

_…no thesis…_

_…uncl., uncl, uncl, uncl…_ WHAT DID THAT MEAN???

_…clarify…_

And at the end, _…Question not answered!_

His only hope to scrape a B out of the course was to ace the final and the term paper, because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t graduate. If he didn’t graduate, he’d be stuck here for another year and never hear the end of it from his father. 

Finally, he managed to fall asleep, haunted by dreams of being chased by a red pen. 

~*~*~*~

The next morning, after three cups of black coffee, two aspirin, and one shockingly cold shower, Pedro dressed in chinos and a collared shirt—the uniform of a young man to be reckoned with. He arrived at the offices of the Political Science department ten minutes early for Professor Hermia’s office hours, clutching another cup of coffee, heavily sweetened. 

The only person there was the department secretary, who was nursing her own gigantic mug of coffee. She waved him at the seat outside of Professor Hermia’s office and continued her work.

Pedro waited. He drank his coffee as it slowly cooled. He waited more. 

Another young man entered, a little older than Pedro, definitely shorter and with the harried air of a graduate TA. He settled down on a chair near Pedro and opened his knapsack. Pedro watched while the young man juggled a large coffee, a large book, and a stack of papers that were probably for grading. 

As if he felt his eyes, the man looked up and caught his gaze. His mouth gave a little half smile, an agreeable expression that almost reached his eyes. Pedro looked down, breaking the contact. He noticed that the tattered black knapsack had a Captain America shield pinned to it. Pedro looked away further, and decided that his coffee cup was the most interesting thing to contemplate right now. 

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Professor Hermia’s dulcet tones jerked through Pedro, startling him into looking up at his teacher. “So glad to see you both so bright and chipper. Or highly caffeinated, but that’s close enough for no difference.” 

Pedro was confused. Why would she want to see him and this other guy? But she opened the door and led them into her office, and he sat down on one of the chairs, waiting for the axe to fall. 

And fall it did. “Don Pedro, though you obviously have a grasp of the material, your prime difficulty is actually thinking about the question that is being asked. Your midterm read like a cook threw everything in the kitchen into a crock-pot, and hoped it would come out all right.” She gave him a penetrating look over her glasses. “I have no idea how you got to this point without that skill.”

Pedro looked away. _He_ knew how he got away with it—no one wanted to flunk the son of one of the most influential men in the state, not to mention one of the biggest donors to the university. 

Professor Hermia turned to the other young man. “Leonato, you told me that you need more time to work on your dissertation, but that you cannot afford to give up any of your TA hours. This is a compromise—tutor this young man at a higher rate than your TA pay, without all of the extra hours that grading and preparing my handouts require. That should give you both the time and the income you require.”

Leonato eyed Pedro dubiously. “Are you sure tutoring him will take less time?”

She smiled. “Pedro is not stupid, merely lazy. I’m certain you can deal with that.”

Pedro sat up, stung by her sally. “Hey!”

~*~*~*~

Which is how Pedro found himself on a Friday night, not at a fraternity party, bar, or club, oh no; he found himself at the library, in a room dedicated for small group study sessions, with someone who was perhaps the least cool person he had ever met. And, as a Cool Person, he had met most of the people on campus, both cool and not.

The professor had ordered him to do as his tutor said, and Leonato decided that Friday night would be the first meeting, and from there they would work out a schedule. 

They began by going over the midterm line by line. 

At first, Pedro went along with Leonato’s dryly cheerful plan but when he finally realized that Friday night meant all Friday night, well past the time when Pedro could satisfactorily pre-game before hitting the clubs, he was annoyed. 

Leonato looked at him with his odd little smile. “You know your subject, just, not so good with actually forming an answer.” 

And with that, Don Pedro Aragon was sunk.

~*~*~*~

He hid it, of course. He was the most popular man on campus. He was the Prince of Aragon! He had sorority girls falling over themselves to date him. The girl who was the second runner up for Miss Messina the previous year would not stop calling him. He could get a beautiful woman to fall on his dick just by snapping his fingers.

So why, why did he find himself looking forward to Tuesday and Thursday afternoons from three to six, and Friday from seven to whenever?

~*~*~*~

Leonato wouldn’t help Pedro write his term paper, but he did point him to some great primary sources and offered to read his first draft to give him a chance to correct any obvious mistakes. Pedro spent most of his tutoring time with Leonato going over his notes, which went from the occasionally legible chicken scratches to full blown thoughts and concepts covered in the classroom. Leonato had a way of asking a question that made Pedro feel like he knew the answer, and could clearly respond. This led to him speaking up more in class, earning him gracious smiles from Professor Hermia. 

She even caught him after class, noting “Participation is part of your grade as well. Good work, Don Pedro.”

Pedro smiled, and ducked his head, a flash of the way Leonato’s eyes crinkled when he smiled careening through his mind. 

~*~*~*~

One Friday, about three weeks before the end of the semester, it turned out that someone else had taken over the study room they used. Leonato quietly fumed that he had reserved that room for the entire year, and the scheduling people sucked.

This was Pedro’s opportunity.

“We can study at my place,” he said. “I’ll order pizza, play my guitar…”

Leonato widened his eyes innocently. “Pizza sounds good, but I’m not one of your groupies, falling at your feet with some guitar playing and cheap vodka.”

Pedro pretended to be offended by the comment. “I’ll have you know that it is all Stolichnaya at my apartment.”

“Good,” replied Leonato, “I’ll bring the juice.”

Which is how they ended up spending Friday night in Pedro’s apartment, drinking vodka and cranberry juice and listening to classic rock albums. Pedro sat propped up against his bed, lazily strumming along to Pink Floyd. Leonato took longer to loosen up, but was now on the floor looking through Pedro’s albums. 

“You have a really great collection here. With some surprises.” Leonato slid _Licensed to Ill_ partway out of the case. “Any particular reason for this one?”

Pedro grinned and played. “You gotta fight, (strum strum) for your right, to paaaaaaarty!”

Leonato nodded. “Required at every fraternity event. What about the Debbie Gibson?”

“Have you ever seen what the Theta girls do to ‘Shake Your Love’?”

“I cannot say that I have.” 

“Trust me, it was worth buying the album to put it onto the party mix tape. Three times.”

Leonato tipped his glass back and got a face full of ice. “I’m out. You want more?” 

Pedro put the guitar aside. “I’ll get it for you.” He stood, wobbling for a moment, then pointed at his guitar. “Don’t touch Lola.” He managed to snag both glasses as he navigated around the records and tapes scattered around the floor.

“La-la-la-la-lo-la,” sang Leonato, slightly off key. “Oh, do you have that one?” He started thumbing through the records again.

“Of course I do!” Pedro threw over his shoulder as he attempted to swagger to the kitchen. It was a bit more of a stumble, but he did get there, and mixed up fresh drinks. If he was a little heavier on the vodka than the cranberry juice than previous drinks, well, he’d chalk it up to nerves.

He’d never seen Leonato like this, all soft and open. There was always a wall, and now it was down, thanks to good vodka and good music. He’d thought they could become friends, despite his crush. This, perhaps, was the start of something really great.

Pedro returned to the bedroom-slash-living room, to see Leonato standing and swaying, mouthing the words to ‘Celluloid Heroes’. He reached out and took the glasses from Pedro and put them on the desk. “I love this song.”

“Me too,” smiled Pedro.

“Dance with me.”

Pedro blinked. “What?”

Leonato took his hands and stepped back and forth. “Dance with me.” He smiled and pulled Pedro close, snaking his arms around his waist. 

“Okay…is this you drunk?” But Pedro didn’t want to question, he wanted to enjoy the feel of Leonato’s arms around him, wanted to lean down and rest his head on his shoulder. 

“This is me relaxed. You don’t know…grad school is way tougher than undergrad. Don’t do it,” Leonato whispered. He leaned into Pedro. “Sometimes I just want to let it all go, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Cautiously, Pedro touched Leonato’s face, brushing his hair back from his face. Their eyes met, and this time Pedro didn’t look away. 

Leonato’s eyes were warm and friendly, everything he wanted. All the feelings he had ruthlessly crushed throughout the semester surged to the fore, and Pedro leaned down, just a little bit, to kiss his crush. 

The response was stronger than expected, sweetness turning passion-filled in a matter of seconds. Hands pulled him closer, and Pedro turned them and walked backward, falling onto the bed with Leonato on top of him. “Please…” he whined through their kisses.”

“Yes,” breathed Leonato, and then there were hands, and clothing, and skin, and Pedro thought he would burst with the joy of finally, finally, _finally_ making his fantasies come true, all to the soundtrack of a Kinks mix tape. 

~*~*~*~

Don Pedro of Aragon woke up naked, which was not surprising, and alone, which was. 

His head hurt, but not as much as usual. He swallowed two aspirin dry and wandered into the kitchen. 

The coffee pot was warm and partly full. There was a note propped up against it. 

_Don Pedro,_

_I regret to inform you that I can no longer be your tutor. You will pass your class, I am certain. I apologize for my behavior last night, and can only hope you will forgive my disrespect._

_Leonato_

“He can’t mean that.” Pedro didn’t realize he had spoken out loud. He’d see Leonato again, next Tuesday, as usual. They would go through his term paper, and Pedro would complain about retyping it again. It would all be fine.

But Leonato wasn’t at their scheduled tutoring session on Tuesday, nor Thursday, and he went over to the department to find out if he was sick or something.

“Why no,” said the department secretary, after he’d bribed her with the good coffee, not the crap they served in the cafeteria. “He flew out early for his fellowship at Oxford. Very prestigious. I suspect he wanted to spend the holidays in England.” 

All of his charm couldn’t wrangle an address out of her.

~*~*~*~

They met again, of course, as Pedro rose through the ranks and grew to accept being Don Pedro, Prince and leader of men. Leonato was rising rapidly through the ranks of government, and didn’t seem to recognize him when they met. He was also married to a lovely young lady, smart as a whip and filled with kindness. Just the kind of woman he should marry. 

Don Pedro put his dreams aside.

~*~*~*~*~

Many years later, after the double wedding of Hero and Claudio, and Beatrice and Benedick, when the dancing was done and guests were wandering off to more private areas of the mansion, Don Pedro and Leonato lingered in his study. 

“Do you remember, all those years ago?” Don Pedro asked. He didn’t mean to, but the Stoli and cranberry juice brought back memories, and weddings made him nostalgic. 

Leonato looked at him with a stunned expression. “I thought you had forgotten.”

“I thought _you_ had forgotten. I never did.” Don Pedro swirled the ice in his glass. “You never wondered why I never married, why I flirted with your niece?”

Leonato looked into his glass, then up again, meeting Don Pedro’s eyes. “I didn’t want to remember. I thought you…well, I didn’t think it was about me.”

“It was, Leonato. It always was.” With that, Don Pedro took their glasses and placed them carefully on the coasters. He drew Leonato close and touched his cheek. “I wish you had stayed.”

“I wanted to.” 

They kissed, and Don Pedro knew in his heart that he would not wake up alone tomorrow morning.


End file.
